The Poetical Works of James Madison Bell | ||
“Liberty or Death.”
Virginius, the Roman Father,
With beating heart, though brave,
Beheld his fair Virginia doomed,
To be a tyrant's slave.
With beating heart, though brave,
Beheld his fair Virginia doomed,
To be a tyrant's slave.
Despair had gather'd on his brow,
Commingled with regret;
A gleam of hope ran through his soul,
I may redeem her yet.
Commingled with regret;
A gleam of hope ran through his soul,
I may redeem her yet.
Come hither, belov'd Virginia,
Ere we forever part;
He clasp'd her to his beating breast,
Then stab'd her to the heart.
Ere we forever part;
He clasp'd her to his beating breast,
Then stab'd her to the heart.
Thus, did a Roman Father slay,
The idol of his soul,
To screen her from a tyrant's lust,
A tyrant's foul control.
The idol of his soul,
To screen her from a tyrant's lust,
A tyrant's foul control.
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Though this was done in days of yore,
The act was truly brave;
What value, pray, is life to man,
If that man be a slave?
The act was truly brave;
What value, pray, is life to man,
If that man be a slave?
Go and ask of Margaret Garner,
Who's now in prison bound,
(No braver woman e'er hath trod,
Columbia's slave-cursed ground:)
Who's now in prison bound,
(No braver woman e'er hath trod,
Columbia's slave-cursed ground:)
Why did she with a mother's hand
Deprive her child of breath?
She'll tell you, with a Roman's smile,
That slavery's worse than death.
Deprive her child of breath?
She'll tell you, with a Roman's smile,
That slavery's worse than death.
O! that every bondman now,
Through all that slave-cursed land,
Had each a heart like Margaret's,
Their freedom to demand.
Through all that slave-cursed land,
Had each a heart like Margaret's,
Their freedom to demand.
Then the Jubilee year would come;
On spire and dome you'd see
Inscribed in blazing characters,
That all mankind are free.
On spire and dome you'd see
Inscribed in blazing characters,
That all mankind are free.
Long live the name of Margaret,
In every freeman's breast;
And when her days are numbered here,
May she in heaven be blest!
In every freeman's breast;
And when her days are numbered here,
May she in heaven be blest!
The Poetical Works of James Madison Bell | ||